Daughter
You can find more of this on by SubscribeStar (dot adult slash KajaWilder), it’s posted past FwB2 Ch. 30 there. You can find the same on my new Patreon (via Discord per their ToS), under /WildErotica. The DISCORD is at https://discord.gg/N9yDASt6Cw . If you prefer direct links, go to my Discord and follow the ‘links in general’ section to find the ones you want. All of my fics are well ahead of what I post here, often 10-30 chapters ahead.
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Chap. 28: Daughter
Emma Granger knew her daughter well. Knew her very well, perhaps better than she did herself. Perhaps not quite as well as one Harry James Potter, anymore… but still, very well indeed. And she knew something was wrong.
Something had been eating away at her for months. Longer, even though Emma hadn’t noticed it until the last Yule break, when they had been introduced to Lilith officially. There hadn’t been anything to notice, not really. Any changes to Hermione’s behavior, her outlook, could have been too easily chalked up to simple maturation, of beginning an intimate relationship (or, they had learned, several at once that meshed into a very large, potentially extremely messy one).
Learning that the strange dreams they’d had which had resulted in Emma’s current state of pregnancy were anything but simple dreams, well… that had been hard. Knowing that Hermione had not just hidden the truth, but deliberately lied to her parents about it to protect Harry… well…
She couldn’t blame her daughter, of course. While Emma and Dan had done everything they could to keep Hermione safe, they had failed repeatedly. They had tried to teach her that they would always have her back, support her… and for the most part, they had succeeded. Not here, though. Here, Hermione had clearly chosen the young man she loved over them.
It helped that, for all the weird perversion (not that Emma blamed them, she had been young once too, and still yearned for a similar life in many ways) of Harry’s nascent family, Harry very clearly loved Hermione just as deeply as her daughter loved him. And that he, at least, seemed open to… things. Other things, outside his family.
Emma knew that Hermione entering Harry’s room to find her mother on her knees with her boyfriend’s cock in her face was not ideal. It… it could have gone so very badly. Daniel had argued that very point, in fact.
But Hermione had hesitated only a few moments before coming in and practically shoving her face down on Harry’s cock!
Emma smiled as she remembered that evening, and how strangely exciting it had been for her. She had been terrified on the drive here from King’s Cross, when she had confessed to Harry, Hermione, and Lilith, that she remembered everything, now. That she knew it wasn’t a dream, that day when Harry had shagged her, and Lilith had shagged Daniel. Worried they would steal her memories again, or do something else, something more drastic.
Worried even that Hermione had been altered in some way, too. Made to forget herself, perhaps, or mind-controlled into going along with whatever Harry or Lilith wanted.
But she knew her daughter well, and as much as Emma had been watching Harry’s reactions to things she said in the rear-view mirror, she had been watching Hermione, too.
That had been all her. The trust. The gratitude. The worry, and the acceptance.
Hermione knew Harry had shagged her. Now, her mind more clear, Emma remembered seeing her in the kitchen doorway as Harry ploughed Emma from behind. Her look of shock, which had quickly shifted to resigned acceptance, and then even some small amusement, though she doubted Harry had noticed that part at the time. And Lilith and Dan, well… Hermione had spared them a few glances, too.
She knew Hermione was attracted to Lilith, and had been intimate with her, of course. They’d said as much that Christmas Morning. So it wasn’t really a surprise to see Hermione watching her in motion, though her glances downward at her father were a bit unusual. She knew Hermione was a curious girl, though, so couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t like Dan was unattractive, after all, even though he was now middle-aged, like she was.
This had been building… well, not quite since then. Before that, even. She’d just started to notice the signs, then. Perhaps Emma had known what to look for, after that Christmas morning? Or been more aware of it? Even now, almost six and a half months later, Emma wasn’t sure… but she knew something was going on in her daughter’s head.
Something that made her feel… guilty. It wasn’t anything to do with Harry, of that, she was sure. Emma was pretty certain that if Harry asked her to murder an orphanage full of children, Hermione would do it… and maybe feel bad afterward. That was a bit extreme, of course. Hyperbole. Hermione would not do that for anyone. But this source of guilt was only tangentially related to Harry, that was the point.
No… Hermione felt guilty toward her, Emma, and her father.
But what, she couldn’t say.
Almost-daily walks in the garden or conservatory, when she could find a spare few minutes between helping the ladies that had been staying had helped. Helped calm them both, resulted in conversations that they both should have had years ago, but hadn’t yet found the time for.
They hadn’t resulted in Emma asking what was bothering her, or Hermione offering up the truth on her own. Daniel hadn’t been able to weasel anything out of her regarding that, either, not that he saw what Emma did. Understandable… he was a man. He still wanted to see Hermione as his little girl, innocent, even if he knew she was anything but.
No… Like mother, like daughter. I want to shag my daughter’s boyfriend, preferably in front of my husband. She’s probably just as freaky as I am, maybe more, with Lilith and Harry around to feed those urges instead of curtail them.
Emma wanted to help. She did. Was bound and determined to, in fact. She just had to find Hermione, first.
“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Vane,” Harry greeted the couple politely as they stepped into the entryway from the front porch, “I’m glad you chose to come visit so soon. Romilda’s been missing you.”
“Mum! Daddy!”
He’d sent the message to Romilda via Winky about ten minutes earlier. A simple one: “Stop shagging whoever you’re with, and dress quickly, your parents are on their way and will be coming up the walk any moment.”
Now she was here, running through the understated but luxurious first glimpse most had of the interior of Harry’s home at a full sprint, her arms reaching for both of them. Wisely, her father, a man Harry would have described as affable if a bit wary were it not for what Harry had done to his daughter, stepped in front of her slight mother and intercepted the human-shaped missile. Romilda threw her arms around him as he did to her, but… it didn’t stop there.
A kiss on the cheek, innocent enough, became tongues tangling together in moments.
Harry sighed. “Ahem. Romilda…”
“Romilda Vane! Thomas!” her mother hissed.
He, at least, looked abashed and embarrassed as he set his daughter back down on her feet. Romilda looked chastened, but not ashamed, as she looked more towards Harry than her own parents… and gave a quick wink with the eye neither of them could see. “Sorry, Mum… Dad. Habit. I’m so glad you came! I didn’t expect you until next week or so!”
“Yes, well,” Eustasia Vane, formerly Eustasia Vance, murmured, “Your father and I wanted to make sure you were being… cared for. In the, er, more normal way.”
“Oh, yes, Harry’s a delightful host, and everything I ever wanted in… well, someone to care for me,” Romilda beamed over at him, practically bouncing on her heels, “Come on, I’ll give you the tour- you don’t mind, do you, Harry?”
“Of course not,” he chuckled, waving her on, “Just the normal rule about people’s privacy in their bedrooms, and so on. Otherwise, I’ve nothing to hide. Would you like any refreshments, Mr. or Mrs. Vane? And I can accompany you, or leave you to it, as you decide. I’ll be working in my study a fair bit today- that door just there past the corridor, Romilda knows the one- but you’ll see me out and about in the afternoon, if you’re here. You’re welcome to stay for dinner if you like, as well. And lunch, of course.”
“Er, w- we couldn’t impose,” Mrs. Vane murmured.
“Nonsense,” Romilda laughed, “Haven’t you heard? Harry’s just had twenty-six people staying for a few days. The house is quiet and almost lonely without all of them here, he’d probably appreciate it, and he wouldn’t have offered if he minded, right, Harry?”
The wizard in question blinked. It was still a bit weird, if he were honest, to have Romilda call him “Harry,” instead of “Master,” or “Sir,” or something else. Still, she’d asked a question, so he blinked a couple more times, then shook his head once he remembered what it had been, “Sorry, lost in thought. No, it’s no imposition at all. Both Fleur and Winky like cooking for groups, I’ve learned, and while Romilda might be talking up my attitude a bit much, it’s true that I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t hope you’d say yes. I… to be honest, I don’t feel I know either of you very well, and if Romilda is going to be part of my life going forward- sorry, since Romilda is going to be part of my life… I figure it’s best. If you don’t mind, of course. I’d never force you.”
“Didn’t have a problem with it before,” Mr. Vane muttered.
“Daddy!”
Harry felt his eyes close, and then opened them quietly, deliberately. “I’ll allow that, Mr. Vane. I deserve worse. But remember what I said previously: Anything I did to Romilda was not intentional. At least, aside from us being intimate. And that was not forced, not at all. She was quite clear what she wanted from the beginning. I can show you my memory up to that point, if you’d like, so you can see for yourself.”
Mr. Vane shuddered as his wife paled. “Er, N- No. No, that won’t be necessary. I… we’ve seen her diary of that time. Her… attraction to you was obvious. I don’t expect you would have had to do more than look in her direction to give her ideas. No… My apologies. I spoke out of turn.”
“No, well, yes,” Harry said quietly, “but remember, it was not intentional, and if I could turn back time to that point, I would. That is one of my most profound regrets, and it probably always will be. But I have learned from it, and I am trying to move forward. I hope that we can, as well.”
Mr. Vane nodded… slowly, hesitantly, but he did. His wife sniffed, “Well said, Mr. Potter. I… I feel as if I should hate you, but Romilda is clearly happier here, and as she didn’t start stripping the moment she saw her father, I can only assume her… needs… are being met.”
“Yes,” Harry nodded himself, “As best we’re able. To be honest, I’ve noticed her slowing down a little the last few days. I’m not sure if there’s a pattern, yet, but… Have you noticed the urges decreasing, Romilda?”
“Not one bit,” she replied with a smile, “I still want to shag all the time, but since I get to several times a day if I want, it doesn’t feel like I have to… hm… worry about it? I know it’ll happen when I need it, so I don’t have to seek it out. Does that make sense?”
“I… I suppose it does. In a way,” Mrs. Vane agreed quietly, “Rather like my father if he had his Firewhiskey. If we were out, well… it was worse.”
“Yes, I see what you mean,” Mr. Vane nodded slowly as well, “I.. I suppose that is better, then. Y- Very well. Yes, let’s see the place, then. I remember from the night of the party, but we weren’t able to see all that much, so… Ah, yes. Mr. Potter-”
“Harry, please,” he replied.
Mr. Vane gave another quick nod, “Very well, I… If it truly isn’t an issue for you, then I would appreciate some time with our daughter.”
“Of course. While she’s here, my home is her home. I only ask that you respect people’s bedrooms. Romilda knows whose those are. And remember that Mr. and Mrs. Granger are muggles, but are fully aware of magic. Anyway, just call for Winky if you need anything, or come find me. Enjoy your day.”
A few moments later, they were gone, and Harry was on his way to the study.
“There you are, sweetie,” Emma Granger said quietly, hoping to announce her presence without startling Hermione.
She needn’t have bothered, Hermione jumped anyway. “Ah! Oh, er… Hi, Mum. Sorry, I was just lost in thought.”
“Hm. I can tell… you haven’t been the type to just stare off into the distance for years. Yet after looking for you for two hours, I finally spot you on top of the house? That’s… well, I’m not surprised to find you up here, but not having a book in your hand is less usual.”
“Yes, I…” Hermione sighed, “I just needed some time to think.”
“Mm. And I’m an alien from Rigel Kentares IV.”
“Mum,” Hermione chuckled, “You aren’t Daddy, you shouldn’t be making Doctor Who jokes.”
“Ah! I’m offended! I’m quite a fan as well, you know… perhaps not as much as your father, yes, but did you know I introduced him to it? Well, Aunt Jo and I, anyway.”
“I didn’t know that, actually, no,” Hermione smiled, a bit wistfully, “I miss Aunt Jo.”
“I’m hoping we can see her this summer, as well,” Emma replied quietly. “Your father… wants to reconnect, too. He also wants me to shag Harry.”
“I know,” Hermione whispered back, “I… I want you to, as well. I think he’d be good for you.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” Emma chuckled dryly, “I climaxed just sucking him… is that what bothers you? What’s been eating at you, dearest?”
“What? No. Nothing’s bothering me,” Hermione lied.
Emma’s right eyebrow rose.
Hermione looked away.
And lasted seventeen more seconds, before she sighed, “You know me too well.”
“I am your mother.”
“Yes, well, sometimes that’s annoying,” Hermione muttered. “Look, I’ll tell you… but you aren’t going to like it. In fact, I’m pretty sure you will want nothing to do with me after I do. So… you know, there are… consequences. I feel like I have to tell you… but I don’t want you to hate me. Or the other person. It wasn’t their fault.”
“Hermione Jean Granger,” Emma said quietly as she pulled her daughter into a hug that made her stiffen, though she slowly started to relax, “You are my daughter. Unless you’ve poisoned an orphanage full of children, I will never not support you and love you. I hope you know that. I love you now, I’ll love you after whatever this is that is bothering you.”
“Even if I shagged Daddy?” Hermione whispered quietly.
Emma stiffened, too. She felt tears well in her eyes, though they didn’t fall (at least she hoped they didn’t) into her daughter’s voluminous hair. “And did you?”
“Yes,” Hermione whispered, “I… he didn’t know. It was in Nice, that last night. He was drunk… mistook our rooms. Thought I was you. And I knew… but I didn’t stop him. It’d been days, weeks, and I… needed someone. All I’d done was give two young men a blowjob, and I just needed… more. So when he came in, I… didn’t push him away. I’m a horrible daughter, I…”
“Am still my daughter,” Emma whispered, and held her daughter more tightly. “We will definitely need to talk about this. You and I, he and I, he and you. But I-”
“He knows,” Hermione whimpered, “I told him this morning, and he passed out. I… I ran. I’ve avoided everyone since.”
“I see. Well…” Emma sighed. How was one supposed to deal with this? She should be furious. At both of them!
But she’d also shagged her daughter’s boyfriend, and given him a blowjob with that same daughter encouraging her to do it from right there next to her. She’d watched that boyfriend’s pet Succubus shag her husband while that boyfriend shagged her, too, and Hermione watched it all.
She had once been in a three-way relationship with the woman Hermione still seemed to think of as her favored aunt, Josephine, Dan, and herself had shared and been so much. Been so much, together.
Hermione and Dan… well, it wasn’t usual. But then, Hermione wasn’t usual. She couldn’t get pregnant, for example, unless she wanted to. And for everything else, Emma was pretty sure Hermione knew she wasn’t ready for that, not yet.
“I’m sorry, I was saying something, let me go back,” Emma replied, pulling away slightly. Hermione stiffened again, perhaps in preparation to run, or to brace herself for a tirade.
Instead, the older woman smiled sadly, and placed her hands on Hermione’s shoulders. “Dear one, my sweet girl… I was saying I love you. We need to talk, but I still love you. I… am upset. I won’t lie. I feel… betrayed, by both of you, but not… deeply, if that makes any sense. I need time to process, but I am not going to suddenly stop speaking with you. You are still my daughter, and you always will be. Daniel is my husband… and lord willing, he always will be. Lord knows I’ve been dreaming of seeing him shag someone besides just me since we split with Josephine. I… wouldn’t have chosen you, but… It is what it i-oomph.”
“I love you, Mum,” Hermione sobbed, with her face buried in Emma’s chest.
“I love you too, sweetie. Like I said, I always will.”